


soft

by sierraadeux



Series: companions through life [7]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, just touchy feely cuddles really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraadeux/pseuds/sierraadeux
Summary: Phil still can't really believe how soft the material of his Tarot shirt is. He can't really believe how good it looks on Dan.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: companions through life [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617661
Comments: 24
Kudos: 133





	soft

**Author's Note:**

> oops i saw [this ask](https://deadandphilgames.tumblr.com/post/632891244967804928/i-am-disgusted-im-revolted-dan-probably-wears) and sighed and went, well i'm gonna have to do something about this huh?

_Soft._ He brushes the tips of his fingers across Dan’s back as he passes him to grab the milk from the fridge. 

Dan hums something soft and sleepy in acknowledgement, warm showers on cool fall days trap sleep in their bones. They wait for steaming coffee to shake it out. Dan blows on his in the corner of the sofa, watching with those puffy parted lips while Phil makes quick work of burning his tongue. 

He jokes, always jokes that Phil mustn't have any taste buds left—says it explains his toleration for that much sugar. In actuality, as he feels the hot liquid slide down his throat, warming his chest, he simply craves the jolt to the brain that allows him to touch and feel and see Dan without the morning haze. 

_So soft._ A hand buried in slightly damp curls—a product of laziness, not wanting to stand in front of the mirror holding the hair dryer up for any longer than thirty seconds—pets and tugs and twirls until grumbly protests lead it to the heathered material covering Dan’s shoulders. 

Phil makes a few whiny noises as well, pushes himself into Dan’s soft side and squeezes until it’s probably barely comfortable for the guy as he tries to finish his coffee.

Phil’s empty mug sits on the coffee table in front of them, next to the remote. He feels that same heavy layer of laziness as he shifts around and stretches out a foot, tapping the remote a few times with a socked toe, filling the room with nothing but those soft little whines and plastic banging against acrylic lacquer. 

He barely has control of his hands half the time, so he doesn’t know why he suddenly thinks he’ll be able to pick it up with his feet. He just doesn’t want to pull away from the soft warmth, even for a moment, but he does want to make a point. 

An _I don’t want to leave this spot today_ point. 

Dan huffs out a soft laugh. There’s a kiss pressed into Phil’s hair as Dan leans forward to place his mug on the table, the koala clinging to his side making every move with him. He swipes the remote and sits them back, dropping it in Phil’s lap. 

“I’ve got things to do today, you know?” Phil is too focused on flipping through the channels to look up at Dan’s face, too comfortable where his head has found home in the crook of Dan’s neck—the soft shirt brushing against his cheek as he shakes his head. He doesn’t look at his face, but he sees the gentle, lopsided smile there—sees the dent poked into his cheek. 

“I know.”

Phil settles on a channel and clicks up the volume a few notches, dropping the remote on the sofa so he can reach that hand over and expertly jam his index finger into Dan’s dimple. His cheek is soft, as it always is, from a fresh shave and their shared moisturizer. Phil lets his hand settle there, the strangest of angles as he cups Dan’s cheek and hums—content. 

Dan makes a little noise, exasperated and soft. He leans into Phil’s touch though, just cocking his head ever so to the side, letting the weight of it sit in Phil’s hand. 

It really isn’t comfortable at all, but it’s soft and nice and Dan nuzzles his cheek into Phil’s skin and brings up a hand to hold Phil’s as he presses a kiss to the center of Phil’s palm. 

Dan does not, indeed, get his things done. Unless his things done include Phil, Bake Off reruns, and a warm, furry blanket tangled between his bare legs and Phil’s atrocious pajama pants. It’s soft, incredibly soft, the kind of soft that doesn’t wash or wear away with use—makes the price tag worth it. 

Phil alternates between sliding his warmed hand between Dan’s shirt and soft stomach and absently fiddling with the hem between his fingers. 

“Wow,” Dan says with a huff of a laugh, jostling Phil’s head on his shoulder. “Thought you were obsessed with me, but it’s really that shirt, innit?” 

Phil scoffs, attempts to act all mock offended and only really ends up grinning fondly. 

“Both, I’m obsessed with both.” Phil presses a kiss to Dan’s neck, making him shudder underneath him, and runs his hand over the print of the top and up to his shoulder. He grips at the soft material there, uses the stability to pull himself onto Dan’s lap—only just kneeing him in the balls in the process. 

Any and all protests from Dan die in Phil’s mouth. Soft lips press together as he runs both hands up and down the sleeves that go past Dan’s knuckles. He’s marginally less upset about Dan not nicking his own shirt that he’s been wearing in testing the past few weeks with the way the larger size hangs loose around his neck, swallows him whole and encourages him to stay cuddled up on the sofa in his pants well into the afternoon. 

Phil pants, a little dizzy, when he comes up for air. There’s a hand in his hair, tugging softly as he settles back to really get a look at Dan. 

His eyes are impossibly dark, cheeks flushed, lips bitten pink. 

“You look so good,” he breathes, smiling at the way it still manages to elicit a hitch in Dan’s breath. 

The little patch of red at Dan’s jaw deepens. “You’re just stroking your own ego,” Dan brushes him off. 

Phil snorts, leans forward and bumps their foreheads together. Dan lets out a little, “ _oof.”_

“You look really good in _this_ ,” Phil concedes, tugging at the fabric by Dan’s collarbone. He slides his hand up his neck, tilts his chin up because he’s decided he’s not quite done kissing him yet. 

“Can I take a picture of you?” Phil releases the soft material bunched in his fist to pat around for his, or Dan’s, phone. 

There’s an indignant snort in his ear from above as Phil clutches around something hard and cool in the cushions at the other end of the sofa. He groans as he struggles to sit back up with his find. Dan’s big hands are quick to assist, pulling him into his lap once again. 

Phil shuffles backwards, Dan’s hand at the base of his back keeping him from toppling backwards off the couch, nearly sitting entirely on his knees. 

“I didn’t say yes, you know,” Dan says, giving Phil a pointed look. Phil just rolls his eyes and unlocks Dan’s phone. 

“I am not consenting to free advertisement,” Dan continues on as Phil opens the camera. “Are you at least paying me?” 

“Paying you?” Phil laughs, leaning forward to push the rest of Dan’s curls off his forehead. “Isn’t the whole point of a permanent apartment fixture the free promo?” He decides he missed something when he sits back, so he leans forward again to press a kiss to Dan’s forehead. 

“There, better,” he says softly aloud. Dan snorts, shoves at Phil’s shoulder, then immediately holds him tight in both arms as he nearly topples over. The soft spot of his head to the sharp corner of the coffee table isn’t a very dignified way to go. 

“These are for me,” Phil clarifies as he takes far too many shots of the Dan he’s sat on. 

“Reckon that doesn’t get you off of labor laws.” Dan smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Phil takes approximately fifty rapid bursts before the expression changes. 

“I mean, it’ll get me off somehow.” 

“ _You-_ ” Dan doesn’t even finish his gasped threat, simply smacking at Phil’s shoulder and hoping that his knees pressed tightly around his thighs don’t keep him upright. He kind of wants the fucker to fall. 

_No he doesn’t_. He holds firmly at Phil’s back, subconsciously pulling him closer as Phil shuffles forward—stuck between the rock and the soft place of wanting to accept the kiss Phil is intent on giving and also, wanting to be a little shit. 

Mischief wins out, Dan tugging the collar of the shirt up over his nose mere seconds before Phil is all pressed up against him again. Phil scrunches up his nose, his whole face really, and he lets out a whiny, soft little, “ _hey,_ ” in the air between them. 

It doesn’t deter him though. Phil leans forward and presses a hot, wet kiss right against the soft material of the shirt. 

“Desgostang,” Dan mumbles from under the fabric, the sound buzzing against the print on the shirt and tickling Phil’s bottom lip. 

Phil giggles, tugs the shirt down to kiss him again. “I’ll compensate you in pizza?” he asks, circling back when he pulls away, earning lifted brows and excited eyes. 

Absolutely no one explains to the pizza guy why it requires two guys, one with his hands clung around the material of the other’s shirt, to retrieve a singular large pizza and small bag of dips.

Phil just doesn’t feel like letting go today, and they bet he’s seen weirder anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> if u wanna [rebloggy](https://sierraadeux.tumblr.com/post/632897769519136768/soft-t-1523-words-danphil-summary-phil-still) or plant any gross and in love seeds in my brain that grow into more of this over at my tumblr, feel free


End file.
